


A Year To The Day

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, F/M, Feelings, Flashbacks, Funny, Romance, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4370747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a year since Molly went with Sherlock to the Maldives, where they solved a murder case. It's only just dawned on him how meaningful that week was. Sherlock is finally ready to tell Molly how much that time away had meant to him, and that he wants her in his life permanently. He takes her on a trip down memory lane in a...unique way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Year To The Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deby/gifts).



> I wrote this in honor of my writing blog's first full year on Tumblr. I asked my followers to submit anniversary themed prompts and then I randomly picked one. This is based on deby45's prompt which said- "anniversary of their first post mortem during some case in an exotic part of the world." I went with it and this is what happened! Hope you all enjoy it, and I do appreciate the follows and stuff on Tumblr, it's lovely of all of you. ;)

"John! John!" Sherlock barged into the Watson's home. Mary and John looked up from their morning tea and baby Lizzie gave him a crooked grin.

Sherlock spared a moment from whatever rush he was in to lean down and plant a kiss on the baby's forehead, making her giggle. But then he was quickly back in business mode.

"John, I need a case," he said firmly. "And not just any case. I need a case in another country."

John looked around in bewilderment. "I'm sorry…what am I supposed to do about that? Did you check your emails?"

"Yes!"

"And were there any cases out of country?"

"No!"

"So, what do you think I can do to change that?" John asked with a laugh.

Sherlock ruffled his curls and flung himself into a chair next to Lizzie's highchair. She immediately attempted to hand him pieces of the cut up banana she was eating.

"This isn't going the way I hoped," Sherlock said with a pout as he reluctantly ate a piece of the banana offered to him.

"What's going on, Sherlock? Why do you suddenly need a case so far away?" Mary asked.

He sighed and began to explain. "Do you remember a year ago, not long after I returned from my five minute exile, that I had a case in the Maldives and you couldn't come, John?"

John nodded. "Yeah I remember that. Mary had just delivered and I didn't want to go that far away."

"Molly went with you instead," Mary added.

"Yes, she did," Sherlock said while nodding. "It was an…eye opening week for me."

"That's funny, I thought it might be!" Mary was looking more excited by the moment.

"All right, all right, relax!" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Would it kill you to just let me explain?"

Mary pantomimed locking her lips and then gestured for Sherlock to go on.

"Perhaps this would have happened regardless, but there was something about being in such a very different setting with Molly. I think it made me _see her_ in a way that I hadn't before." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "They put us up at the resort where the murder happened, in one of those luxurious water bungalows…did I tell you that before?" he asked with a frown.

"No," John said with a chuckle. "I'm especially glad I couldn't go now! You know that would have made its way back to the tabloids in London!"

Sherlock ignored his friend's little crack. "She did excellent work, even in an unfamiliar location. Nothing disturbed her or distracted her. The local hospital agreed to let her fill in for the post mortem since it was unusual circumstances. It was Molly that discerned the man's cause of death to be from a poison not found in the local plant life. That allowed me to narrow down the suspects more easily. It wasn't difficult to make the connection that one of the other guests attending the destination wedding was a botanist."

"And you solved it in a week? I think I remember you being gone a week," John said, narrowing his eyes as he tried to remember.

Sherlock's eyes darted back and forth, and he looked suddenly embarrassed. He paused and cleared his throat before answering. "Actually…we solved it in two days."

Mary snorted out a laugh and covered her mouth, trying not to blurt anything out.

"Really?" John said, drawing the word out slowly as his own smirk grew. "So most of the time you were there, you were just...on holiday then?"

Sherlock pressed his lips together. "It seemed…rude to hurry away when they offered to let us stay the rest of the week free of charge. The resort was very grateful and appreciated the speedy resolution of the crime. If we hadn't cleared things up, suspicion could have spread among the resort's other guests. They could have suspected the resort to be unsafe in some way. Something like that can be enough to forever ruin a business!"

"Well, you simply had to stay a full week then," Mary said with a serious expression. "You wouldn't want to be rude! We all know how careful you are to avoid rudeness, don't we?"

"Look, I'm just going to come out and say it." Sherlock swallowed hard and pressed his eyes closed for a second. This sort of confession wasn't at all comfortable for him. "That week…I fell in love with Molly."

John's jaw dropped, Mary began excitedly drumming on the kitchen table, and Lizzie squealed and threw some banana in celebration.

"So…forgive me for noticing but, that was a year ago, Sherlock," John said with a frown. "Are you telling me you two are…together? Because you don't really seem like you are."

"No, John, we are not together," Sherlock said with a sigh. "I came back to London with her and somehow it was like the whole thing was a dream. I woke up and I was back to life here in the city and things went completely back to normal. I'm not trying to excuse it, but that is what happened. This is me, after all."

"And of course, Molly the saint said nothing," Mary said as she wiped banana off her shirt. "She had to have seen a difference in you while you were away and then she was suddenly thrown back into the world of Sherlock the indifferent git!"

"I am not-" He stopped himself. "All right, fine…sometimes I may _seem to be_ indifferent," he admitted reluctantly.

"Ok, so what's changed now and why do you want a case out of the country?" John questioned, growing tired of Sherlock's round about conversation.

"I got a brochure from the resort recently. I gave them my information of course while we were there. So it naturally jogged my memories a bit. I started thinking about that week and everything that happened…and I wanted more." He looked almost sad. "I don't want that to be just some fantasy. I want that in my life…every day. And I…I want to tell her."

Mary shook her head and grinned. "I knew this was gonna be a good day. Didn't I say so, my little love?" she asked Lizzie while tickling her and making her giggle.

"I very much wanted to recreate an out of country case that she could accompany me on. Particularly if it could involve an actual post mortem and lab work," he said thoughtfully.

John laughed. "Sherlock, you can't just come up with a case to suit your needs! Why don't you just tell her how you feel?"

"Because that was _special,_ John! The _autopsy_ was special! The whole thing was unique and now it's been exactly a year since then. I wanted to commemorate that with…" His eyes went wide. "Perhaps I could recreate it myself...right here."

John and Mary frowned and looked at each other.

"Sherlock, please don't do anything stupid, all right?" John pleaded.

Sherlock had already jumped up. "No, this will be perfect! I know exactly what I'll do! I just have to make sure she's out of the morgue for a bit and do some setting up…" He paced around the kitchen.

"Oh God…should we even try to stop him?" Mary asked her husband who looked like the exasperated father of an overactive little boy.

"Not sure there's any point, Mary." John took a sip of his tea as his friend continued pacing and talking rapidly to himself.

About five minutes later, he had rushed out looking far too excited for the Watson's liking.

There was a brief silence before Mary said, "John, what do you think they did in a luxury water bungalow in the Maldives…for five whole days?" She raised her brows.

John narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as he drew a breath. "My take on it is…thank God we don't know."

Mary giggled and Lizzie laughed right along with her mother while flailing her little arms.

"Yes, my darling! I know! Uncle Sherlock is finally using that brain of his! Yay for Uncle Sherlock and Aunty Molly!" Mary clapped her daughter's chubby little hands, earning more smiles.

Lizzie Watson wasn't completely clear on what was going on this morning, but she was certainly crazy about Uncle Sherlock and Aunty Molly. If this was anything to do with them, well then it had to be something worth the excitement.

* * *

YOU ARE WORKING TODAY, CORRECT? –SH

I AM. I'M ABOUT TO GO ON BREAK THOUGH. HOPE YOU DON'T NEED ANYTHING. I'M A BIT BUSY THIS AFTERNOON. GOT A COUPLE POST MORTEMS TO DO. –MH

ABSOLUTELY FINE. NO PROBLEM…SEE YOU LATER. –SH

Molly frowned to herself as she read the text again at the end of her break. She had just said she was busy and he said that was fine, but then said he'd see her later? What in the world could he have up his sleeve? She could never be sure when it came to Sherlock.

She walked down the hospital corridor and hummed quietly to herself as she made her way to the morgue. As she neared the door, she heard a strange rushing sound coming from inside. It sounded like…water?

Molly pushed the doors opened and her jaw immediately dropped.

"Sherlock! What…the…" She began to question whether the brilliant detective had gone _genuinely_ mad as she scanned the morgue.

Covering much of the walls were posters of tropical ocean scenes. It looked like there were now windows in the basement morgue that overlooked the ocean. The whooshing sound she had heard was coming from Sherlock's phone, hooked up to some speakers, and blasting ocean noises. She could swear she smelled flowers…and then there was Sherlock himself! He was in shorts, sandals, and his untucked white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows.

"Wha-what is all this?" she stammered.

"Hello, Molly," he said with a proud grin. "Does this look at all familiar?"

"Um, well…" She continued looking around with a confused expression. Suddenly she grimaced as she moved her feet over the floor. "Sherlock, is there _sand_ on the floor?!"

He smiled slyly. "Is none of this ringing a bell?" He took a few steps closer to her and dropped his voice low. "Molly…do you ever think about that week in the Maldives?"

_Oh…the Maldives. Do I ever stop thinking about it would be the better question._

"Well, sure. I do think about it sometimes," she answered with half honesty as a blush crept into her cheeks. "It's the kind of…place…you could never forget, isn't it?"

"I agree." He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels for a moment. "Did you know that it was a year ago today that we went to that little hospital and you did the post mortem on that man?"

"Today? Really?" She honestly didn't know. Not to say that she didn't think about the experience often, but she hadn't kept track of the exact date. To be honest, she was more than a little surprised that he had.

She began remembering the sights and sounds of the hospital that made Bart's feel like an absolute palace. The doctor available was all too happy to let her take the lead with the post mortem, seeing as they didn't often have to deal with something this serious. The setting may have been different, (and yes, she remembered that she and Sherlock had commented to each other that there was even a bit of sand that made its way onto the hospital floors from being tracked in on people's shoes!) but she was still in her element. She dove into that post mortem in the same way she would with any other. And she did distinctly remember the look in Sherlock's eyes when she'd announced the presence of some sort of poison that she'd like to analyze.

"That's right. One year ago today," he repeated softly. "I thought perhaps, a bit of a commemoration would be appropriate. You did say you're doing a post mortem this afternoon, didn't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I am. Not as um…thrilling," she said with a giggle.

"It's all right. Thrilling to see you work, regardless."

 _Well,_ Molly thought, _this is becoming familiar!_ This was the Sherlock Holmes from a year ago…back from the dead. She honestly thought she'd never see him again. More than once on that trip she'd wondered if he was on something, because she'd never seen him more at ease and content. And most of the time they weren't even working the case!

As Molly pulled out the body of poor Mr. Peter Fleming and prepped her tools, she thought back on her absolute shock when Sherlock had accepted the offer of the resort and suggested to Molly that they stay the remainder of the week. She remembered almost arguing with him, but then stopping herself. She didn't want to be an idiot and talk him out of it! But it was just difficult to believe that he would choose to stay on holiday, and with her! She wasn't foolish enough anymore to believe that she didn't matter to him, but she still wouldn't guess that he'd be happy to share an experience like that with her.

They'd spent that next five days in shockingly blissful relaxation. There was a wide variety of fresh and beautiful food, even the memory of which made Molly's mouth water. They barely left that water bungalow since you could have food brought right to you and Sherlock had no desire to mingle with other resort guests. She did a lot of reading on her tablet and Sherlock didn't seem to mind. He spent a lot of time in his mind palace it seemed. She realized during that week, that the two of them could happily be in each other's company without saying much. There wasn't any awkwardness, which was a bit different from here in London. In real life, there was certainly the potential for awkwardness with the consulting detective.

Being literally right on the water was unbelievable too, and Molly had taken every chance she could get to walk down the little steps outside the bungalow, and slip right into the ocean. Not surprisingly, she had learned that Sherlock was an excellent swimmer. He could dive like a professional, stay under long enough to scare the wits out of her, and swim at least double her own speed. It was really something to watch.

"Did you um, did you want to help?" Molly asked as she readied herself to make the incision. She almost felt like it would be rude not to offer, given all this strange effort he'd gone to today.

"I don't have to. Routine anyway, isn't it?"

"Right. He's seventy eight and it seems that he simply had a massive stroke. He was alone at the time though, so this is just a confirmation."

"Well, I'll let you lead the way then." And as he said it, he very briefly placed the large span of his hand on her shoulder blade.

Molly sucked in a breath and held it as she felt the skin beneath that hand begin to burn, despite the two layers of fabric in between. And it brought her mind back in time again, to a time when she'd been surprised at Sherlock's comfort with contact.

As she began the routine post mortem, she remembered how strange it was to see Sherlock being at all…playful. But he was. She had nervously emerged in the two piece bathing suit with its loud tropical pattern which she'd purchased at a local shop and expected to be swimming alone, or at least very separate from him. She had been surprised to find him already in the water and smiling when she slowly descended the wooden steps.

* * *

" _How's the water?" she asked, still clutching a towel to her middle._

" _Like a warm bath," he said, squinting up at her. "You'll probably need to leave that towel on the deck though. May not do you much good later if you swim with it."_

" _Right," she said, laughing nervously as she chucked the towel back on the deck. She had basically jumped in after that, becoming too self-conscious to stand there on the steps with him looking up at her._

_She came up from the water that was indeed like a crystal clear warm bath, smoothed her hair back, and found him grinning a few feet away._

" _Oh good, you can swim. I was thinking that would put a terrible damper on the rest of this week if you couldn't." He flicked some water at her and winked before dipping under the surface himself._

" _Who are you, and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?" she muttered to herself while treading water and watching him swim beneath the surface. She let out a little squeak a moment later when he tugged at her toes._

* * *

"I'm not sure things would have gone so easily had I brought John with me a year ago."

Sherlock's words broke through Molly's memories.

"Really? How so?" she asked casually while continuing her task.

"Well, I think the level of experience at the local hospital was less than adequate for what they were dealing with. But since you had the credentials, they were more than willing to allow you take charge. Regardless of my other skills, I very much doubt they would have allowed me to perform a post mortem. And John, although a doctor, does not specialize in pathology. You were instrumental to solving that crime as quickly as we did." His words were laced with a reverence she rarely got to hear.

"I'm glad." She smiled at him. "I mean that was probably the best holiday I've ever had. We wouldn't have had nearly as much time at that lovely place if it had taken days longer to find the murderer."

He looked down for a moment, then back to her. "It was the best holiday I've ever had as well," he said softly.

"Really?"

"Mm."

The eye contact became too intense…too confusing. Molly looked away again and continued working on Mr. Fleming.

She thought back to that holiday again and marveled at the easy routine they'd fallen into, and almost right away. He had immediately told her he didn't care that there was only one bed. It was a king size, and he casually assured her that they'd both barely even know the other was there. And she really did end up been perfectly comfortable with the arrangement. She'd usually fall into the cloud-like bed earlier then him, but would vaguely register when he came to bed another hour or two later. She'd wake to see him sleeping peacefully next to her, and she'd get up to order some coffee and breakfast. He would venture out onto the deck some time later in a dressing gown and sip his coffee while staring out at the water. She'd sit silently next to him and read. Sometimes they'd fall into conversation about cases, but work wasn't all they spoke of. She'd never heard as much about his past, his family, and his beloved pet Redbeard as she did in those few days.

It all felt so inexplicably natural and easy.

And she thought again about how surprising the swimming had been. It had started out normal enough. It was already surprising to her that he was in the water as often as she was, but then the playing began. He'd splash her unexpectedly, tug on her leg or foot under the water, and hide only to pop up and surprise her. But that wasn't all. Things became much more physical.

Molly recalled lying on one of the deck chairs for about an hour after having a swim, and finally sitting up with a little sigh.

* * *

" _Goodness, it is hot when you just lie here in the sun for a while!" she exclaimed._

_Sherlock answered without moving an inch or removing his sunglasses. "Then have a swim."_

_Molly pursed her lips and let herself fall back against the cushion of her chair. "Oh, I don't know…I just dried off."_

_Sherlock removed his sun glasses and chuckled while looking over at her. "So what? Do you have somewhere you need to be, Dr. Hooper?" he teased._

_Molly cracked a smile. "Ok fine, I know that sounds like a silly problem. I guess I just can't decide whether I'd rather stay dry in the sun and be too warm, or cool off in the water and be all messy again."_

" _Well!" Sherlock said as he got up from his chair with a little grunt. "I'd say if you're having such a difficult time, perhaps I should do the thoughtful thing and just…make the decision for you."_

_Before she had any time to react, Sherlock darted over to her chair, slipped his arms under her legs and back, and scooped her easily off the chair and into his arms._

" _Aaahh! Sherlock!" Molly screamed while giggling. "What do you think you're doing?!"_

" _Just making your decision for you, Molly," he said while making his way to the edge of the deck. "And personally, I really think you should cool off!"_

_He tossed her over the side and into the water Molly went down with a loud squeal. Sherlock wasted no time in jumping in along with her. They both soon surfaced and were laughing uncontrollably. Molly quickly swam over closer to Sherlock._

" _You are gonna get it now, Sherlock Holmes!"_

_She grabbed onto his head, shoving it down under the surface using her body weight. This only gave him the chance to wrap his arms around her hips under the water and then lift her up to throw her into the water again. Thus followed an extended battle till they were both pretty worn out. Molly thought her heart would stop when Sherlock wrapped his arm around her middle at the first sign of exhaustion in her._

" _Are you all right to get back to the dock?" he murmured, suddenly looking so intensely into her eyes._

" _Uh huh," she managed to breathe out. And she realized that she'd automatically grasped his arm, despite her saying she didn't need any assistance._

_It took a moment for the two of them to let go and finally swim back to the stairs._

* * *

Molly shook her head a little as she finished replaying the memory. It wasn't an isolated incident either. Frolicking in the water with frequent physical contact became the norm during those few days. It seemed so incredibly unbelievable as she thought back on it now, but in the moment it was completely normal. It truly was like a dream. So logical while asleep, and then so full of strange inconsistencies and impossible events in the light of day.

Based on what Sherlock said next, it seemed he was reading her mind.

"I suppose the whole week seems strange to remember now."

She shot him a look again as she began wrapping up the post mortem. "Um, yeah it does," she admitted. "I actually didn't think you really remembered…or wanted to I mean."

Molly had assumed there was an unspoken "what happens on holiday stays on holiday" sort of rule. In fact she was sure of it when she'd brought up the subject a couple of weeks after their return. She made a comment about how much she missed the warm sun and lazy days in the water, and all he'd said was, "Mm, the case did go rather smoothly didn't it?" It was as if he'd erased everything about the week that was not case related. Molly took the hint and had decided that she was going to drop it. She refused to become desperate and needy. She'd lived this long without his affections, and she felt sure she could keep living that way.

"That's not true, Molly," he said seriously. "I remember all of it. And I don't want to forget. I just…got distracted once we were back. Normal life crowded out that week, no matter how unbelievable that sounds. And…I'm sorry."

Molly shrugged. "It's ok. I can see now that you took the whole thing seriously," she said with a laugh as she looked around at the tropical morgue they were standing in.

"I didn't just take the holiday seriously, Molly. I took _you_ seriously."

Molly's eyes went a little wide.

She'd seen him look almost this same way on the last night of their stay.

* * *

_Unlike the other nights, he climbed into the bed at about the same time she did. He shut off the lights, rolled over on his side with his head propped on one hand, and stared at her for what seemed like an age. With all the opened doors and windows in the water bungalow, there was plenty of moonlight to illuminate his features, so she could see exactly how he was looking at her…and it made her wonder how this final night was about to go._

_Sherlock moved over in one fluid motion and hovered his face not far from hers, as if deciding what to do next._

" _Good night, Molly," he finally whispered. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead…searing the skin with a lingering kiss._

_He pulled slowly away and moved a couple feet over to his usual spot, immediately turning away from her and settling down on his pillow._

_Molly's heart was beating so hard and fast that she wondered if he could feel the bed moving. It would figure if he were some sort of "Princess and The Pea" with all his hyper sensitivities and perception. It took her forever to fall asleep, and when she finally did it was naturally him that she dreamed of._

* * *

Molly felt her pulse race even at the memory of that moment. She brought it back to normal when she reminded herself how she'd woken to Sherlock buttoning his dress shirt and drinking coffee already. He'd announced that Mycroft's jet would be there in a couple of hours, so she'd need to ready herself as quickly as possible. He had walked off, his dress shoes echoing on the wooden floor that suspended them above the sea. Molly felt a sinking in her stomach even then. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and the consulting detective she knew so well had come back.

"You did?" she asked, instinctively setting her tools down. "I thought it was just a sort of…game to you."

"You're no game, Molly Hooper." He began to smirk. "That's not to say you aren't any fun."

She smiled as well and felt her cheeks heating up. "That's nice of you to say, Sherlock, but…" Her expression turned more serious again. "What does all of this mean exactly?"

He drew a slow breath and she saw him swallow hard. "It might have taken a whole year passing for me to realize this, Molly, but that week away…it wasn't enough."

"Enough of…a holiday?" she asked cautiously and prayed his answer wasn't yes.

He shook his head. "No…not enough of _you._ "

Molly reminded herself to breathe and gulped some air as she ripped her gloves off. "Are you being serious, Sherlock? I mean, really deadly serious?...forgive the unintended pun, Mr. Fleming…Please tell me now before I take the chance of making an absolute fool of myself." She looked up at him with a somewhat desperate expression.

Sherlock looked down at her with fire growing in his eyes. "If I know what you're thinking, then I do hope you decide to take that chance right now. Because I am more serious than you can possibly im-"

His words were immediately cut off as Molly hopped up, secured her arms around his neck, and pressed her mouth to his with a rather dramatic sigh of contentment as she did. Sherlock responded in a millisecond. He hoisted her up and quickly swiveled them around to sit her on a thankfully unoccupied examining table. Her arms locked around his torso, holding him as close as possible. Sherlock was cradling her face as he hungrily kissed her in exactly the way he had wanted to almost all week a year ago…all starting with that now infamous post mortem.

Without thinking much, Sherlock gripped the sides of her lab coat and tugged it briskly over her shoulders. This brought Molly back to reality.

"Sherlock!" Molly choked out as she yanked her lips away from his and moved her hands up to his face. She locked eyes with him and smiled. "Um, Sherlock, despite the truly stellar job you've done at transforming this place, I am at least somewhat aware that we're not actually back on holiday in the Maldives. This is still just Bart's morgue, so I think we'd better cool things down. Unfortunately there's no lovely water to jump in, but we still need to-"

"Cool down," he finished her sentence and nodded briskly before lifting her up and setting her back on the ground. "Right, sorry."

"Don't say you're sorry, Sherlock!" Molly said firmly but with a laugh as she grabbed the collar of his shirt. "This is definitely not the time! I mean I'm sure there's going to be lots of occasions for apologies in the future but this is not one of them!"

"I hope there will be, Molly. Lots of that in the future, I mean." He stroked her face. "Because I do want a future…for us."

Molly felt tears spring to her eyes. "Sherlock," she whispered. She pulled him down again and consumed his mouth with slow passionate kisses. It took her a moment to remember herself again and pull away.

"Oh for God's sake, Sherlock! Why didn't you do this a year ago on holiday?!" she asked with a little growl as she playfully swatted at his chest. "I swear to you, it would have been the best week of your life, you idiot!" With her fiery little expression and tone of voice as she spoke through gritted teeth, it sounded more like a death threat than a promise of fun.

"All right, I'm sorry, I know!" he yielded with a laugh while Molly pulled her gloves back on and began cleaning up. "I know it was a bit of a waste last year, and I shouldn't have been so foolish. I think I was worried that I just wasn't myself that week. And I didn't want to do anything that would leave you hurt when we returned to London. I know better now though."

Molly soon returned the confirmed stroke victim, Mr. Fleming, back to his place and again ripped her gloved off. Sherlock had cleaned up the mess he made as well and was just shutting down the ocean sounds when he spoke again.

"Oh and by the way, there's one thing I didn't really mention yet."

"Really? What's that? I can't imagine any more news than this in one day," she said brightly and came over to him again.

"Well I just wanted to make sure you'd be available to take a couple of weeks off from Bart's in about two months from now."

Molly's expression froze. "Wait…what for?" she asked with baited breath.

Sherlock shrugged with a sneaky half smile. "Oh nothing much. Just…two weeks back at the same resort." His half smile erupted into a grin.

Shortly after, there followed a third time that Molly had to pry her own body off of Sherlock's for the sake of appropriate work place behavior. After she'd composed herself, Sherlock explained that when he had called the resort owner the day before, although it was still pricey, the owner had remembered him and given him two weeks for the price of one. He couldn't pass up that offer.

Molly and Sherlock weren't sorry that the trip was a whole two months away. It actually ended up working out just perfectly. Because it turned out they had lots of things to fill the time in between. And the prospect of more time at that little piece of paradise at the end of those busy two months made it all the more wonderful.

That two week holiday…turned out to be a perfect honeymoon.

**Author's Note:**

> In case any of you readers haven't seen the kind of resort that I'm describing here, YOU MUST LOOK IT UP. Just search Maldives resort. You will see what I mean! Hope you liked this one shot, and I'll see you next time! ;)


End file.
